I stepped inside, my heartbeat drumming in my veins, uncertain of what I would find. The old, wide pine floorboards creaked eerily as I made my way through the living room.

“Barry, I’m here!” I tried one more time.

“Meeoww!” Pandora’s howl quickened my pace and I rounded the corner to the kitchen at breakneck speed, my heart leaping in my chest as I skidded to a stop, right before stepping on Barry’s body.

***

“Barry!” I squealed. He didn’t move, and my first thought was how suspicious Striker was going to be when he discovered I’d found another body.

Then Barry groaned, which scared the crap out of me. Then I realized he wasn’t dead and relief flooded through me. I knelt down beside him on the yellow linoleum floor.

“Barry, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Wha?” Barry tried to push himself up then fell back. He rose up on his elbows and shook his head, looking at me with unfocused eyes.

I took his hand. “I’m going to call nine-one-one.”

“No, wait a sec.” His voice was thick, but his eyes seemed to be focusing better. He sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. “What happened?”

Pandora sniffed his pant legs, then rubbed her face against his hip. He scratched her behind the ears.

“I have no idea. I came over to get those books and found you here on the floor.” I looked around the old country kitchen. There was a box on the floor with various silver items in it. A silver candlestick, pie server and pitcher sat on the table next to a laptop. Nothing seemed out of place and it didn’t look like there had been a struggle. “Did you pass out?”

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowed to slits. “You know, I’m not sure. I guess I must have.”

He struggled to his feet and I helped him into a chair, then sat at the old pine trestle table across from him. Pandora took the opportunity to sniff around the room.

“Have you ever passed out like that before?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Never.”

“Does your head hurt? Did you hit it on something?” Or did someone hit him, I wondered.

Barry touched the back of his head, then the sides. “Nope, doesn’t hurt at all.”

“We should call nine-one-one and have you checked out.”

“No. I feel fine now. I’d rather call my doctor and make an appointment.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Folks up here could be stubborn and I hoped he wasn’t just putting me off. “Well, if you promise you’ll call …”

“I will.” He looked around the kitchen. “It’s funny—I don’t remember passing out, though.”

“What do you remember?”